But I'm Too Young to be A Spy!
by Nerdsbians
Summary: College Shoot AU. Two young girls are chosen for a secret and very exclusive government program, in no other than the FBI Branch! Root!Nerd & Shaw!Troublemaker. Let the fun begin.
1. Chapter 1

**No Copyright Infringement Intended**

**Fanfic Type: **AU

**Pairing: **Root/Shaw

**Rating: **T

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><p>It was simply impossible for Samantha to believe her eyes. The colorful stamp of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was staring back at her from the manilla envelope, real, there. Her eyes widened even further at seeing where exactly it came from.<p>

_FBI College Office of Admissions_

After looking around her for a minute, as if searching for the person who could have left this on her porch, she pushed her glasses further up her nose, and, eyebrows raised, took one last look before going back into the house.

"Mom?" She called out in a confused and hesitant voice as she walked into the living room. The sounds and smells of sizzling eggs came from the kitchen. A young blonde woman stuck her head out and looked at her daughter with a bright smile.

"Yes, sweetie?" She asked, pan in her hand. A little oil fell on to the floor and the woman put the pan back on the stove with a small exclamation that sounded something like _oh, dear!_ Cleaning it up as best as she could without messing up her pretty yellow summer dress and white sandals she looked up at her daughter nervously, as if expecting her reproach for her occasional clumsiness, and inquired, "What is it?"

"I just received this in the mail." Root said slowly, waiting for her mother to walk over to her and take the envelope from her hand. Immediately after seeing the stamp, her mother's eyes widened, and she went into a rant.

"See!" She said in a nagging tone, turning back to the kitchen and waving the envelope in the air, "I always knew spending so much time on the computer would lead to this! What trouble have you got into now? Hacking into the government isn't the best hobby for a girl your age, you know?" She stuck her little head out the door into the living room once again to take a good look at her daughter, "Why couldn't you do something more normal?" She asked, barely hiding a hint of remorse, "I don't know, like, cheerleading, ballet?" Turning back to the now badly burnt eggs, she added in a small voice, "I was a great, very popular dancer at your age."

Samantha was used to this kind of talk from her mother, so she merely let out a small sigh and made a motion with her hand, "Just read what it says, Mom."

Her mother finally looked over at the address on the envelope, rolled her eyes, and taking one last look at her daughter, handed it back to her, and the message was clear.

_Don't even think this changes anything. You are going to Harvard, young lady, whether you like it or not._

What she did say was, without turning her head, "You must change your outfit immediately, we are going to be late for church."

Samantha looked at the wall clock above an armchair in the Victorian-style living room. "It's seven-thirty, Mom." She said with a confused frown, "Church doesn't start till nine." Then, looking down at her clothes, a blue turtleneck and some jeans, she asked, "And what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Ignoring her remark about the time, her mother raised her eyebrows as if the answer was obvious and replied, "Well, it wouldn't kill you to wear a dress every once in a while, darlin'."

Heaving another sigh, Samantha climbed the stairs at the end of the hallway and went up to her room, the familiar frustration she always felt in that house a little bit more oppressive than usual. She sat on her bed absentmindedly and, letting the envelope fall at her side, ran both hands through her hair and tried to massage her temples a bit, a small sound of exasperation coming from her pink lips. Before getting up to look for another outfit that would please her mother, she took another hard look at the envelope, picking it up in her hands, as if checking again to see if it was real.

She had never really considered a career as a cop, a detective, or a spy, unlike a lot of people in her generation. It had simply never crossed her mind. Sure, her hacking skills were quite impressive, if she did say so herself, and she did, as always, with a confident smirk, to reassure herself that there was a reason why this piece of paper had landed in her hands.

As she started to open it absentmindedly, there was the sound of a crash outside. Her mother's voice rang out from downstairs.

"_Samantha Groves_!"

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><p>AN: _Remember, a review a day keeps the writer's block away! Tell me if you want me to continue._


	2. Chapter 2

**No Copyright Infringement Intended**

**Title: **But I'm Too Young to be A Spy!

**Chapter: **2

**Pairing: **Root/Shaw

**Genre: **Romance/Drama

**Rating: **T

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><p>"Samantha Groves!" a shrill voice rang through the house and al the way to her room, "What did I tell you about toying around with things you aren't supposed to?"<p>

With a resigned face, she moved from her bed and down the stairs, through the front door and over to the garage. There was metal and shards of glass all over the otherwise impeccable front lawn. Her mother was standing in front of what to any other person would have looked like a pile of rubbish, but Samantha called "her Baby."

Though not a word escaped her pursed pink lips, her mother's face seemed to speak volumes of disappointment. It seemed to say, _Oh, Samantha, why do you do this to your poor mother? Does my own mental health and wellbeing not matter to you? What did I do to deserve this? Why do I have to deal with this? Every day, Samantha, this happens every single day._

But little Miss Groves was more concerned about the state of her toy rather than her mother's antics. Without looking at her, she went straight to the pile of shining metal and smoke and ran her hands over it, trying to decipher what was wrong with it. She asked with a perplexed and worried voice, "What happened to it?"

The older woman's face fell, as if saying, _well, what do you think?_ "It fell from the roof, Samantha." And she looked up with a frown, "Almost gave me a heart attack too. Aliens, I said," She was now talking to herself and looking down the sidewalk to see if anyone had noticed the little scene, "They've finally come for us." Then she looked back at her daughter still sitting by the machine, her glasses dirty and messy brown hair falling over her face, kneeling down and studying the broken parts. She could not for the life of her understand this girl's obsession with _machines_.

Samantha looked up at the sky in confusion, then in wonder. She started to run back to the front door quickly and excitedly, shouting back, "I have an idea!" Ignoring her mother's cries of "_Stop right there!_" and, "_Don't you dare get up on that roof again, young lady!_" Realizing it was too late to stop her, she heaved a sigh and got back to trimming her daffodils.

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><p><em>One, two, one, two.<em>

His voice rang in her ears, loud, measured, unforgiving. Sameen's father had a talent for sounding like the perfect army general. A former Marine, he had done four tours in Iraq and Afghanistan before coming home to his daughter, mainly to train her to be the perfect soldier.

His penetrating gaze tore into her back from a distance, and as she reached the corner of her street, she dropped down into a plank position and started twenty pushups, letting the anger fuel her. He continued to look on, chin high and arms crossed.

Since her mother died the year before, this had been the only life she'd known. There was little that mattered to her anymore. The web of lies her father had built around their family and what had happened the previous summer weighted on her like a dark cloud, and she hadn't smiled since that dreaded evening. Her father contented himself with training her ruthlessly, day and night, with the stone cold eyes of a stranger.

To Sameen, this man wasn't her father. When she reported to him in the early hours of dawn dressed impeccably, wide awake and ready for their run, she addressed him with as sir, her tone sharp and clear, her face set.

_The first few days after he came back home were filled with a blissful happiness. Sameen was truly glad to finally meet the man she'd heard so many stories about. Her mother seemed to walk as if on air, she would cook more, clean around the house, things were going well. On Friday nights, they would go out to her mother's favorite restaurant. On Sundays, he would take her to a football game, and then they would eat at his favorite steakhouse._

_They never did that anymore. _

_The evening when everything went wrong, Sameen and her father were having fun outside on the front lawn throwing a football around one Sunday night after a game. He pretended to tackle her, and any passing neighbors would smile at seeing young Sameen's beautiful smile and hearing her laugh, neither of which were common occurrences on that street. Her dad was respected, loved and accepted into the community quickly, he would tell stories of the war, one arm around his daughter and another around his wife, as they looked up at him with shining, loving eyes._

_He decided to go into the house to ask his lovely wife if she could get them some water, and Sameen threw the football up in the air, watching it in the falling darkness as some dark clouds moved overhead. Suddenly, with a glance over at the door, she saw a glass fall from her father's hands and shatter on the living room floor, his face turning pale, he ran up the stairs to the master bedroom and let out a roar unlike nothing she had ever heard before. As thunder fell and crashed, a shot rang throughout the house, and Sameen was rooted to the ground. As soon as she heard the second shot, she went inside running. A dark figure stood over her parent's bed._

_"Go to your room, Shaw!" He said._

_Her feet were turned to stone. Her entire body went cold. Voices in her head kept screaming. _

"Shaw!"

_She walked away._

"Shaw!"

Her eyes blinked open.

"This is for you."

In a quick motion, he handed her a manilla envelope, a stern expression on his face. She looked down at it confusedly, she never got any mail. When she looked back at him his face seemed determined. He moved in front of her and tilted up his chin by means of telling her to stand up straight. She narrowed her eyes and stood with her hands clasped behind her back, feet same width apart as her shoulders. He spoke.

"This envelope contains an invitation to continue your education and become an FBI agent." His stare was almost angry when he saw her dark eyes light up with interest, and he continued in a harsher tone, "Tonight you will write to the admissions office, offer your deepest apologies and say that you unfortunately cannot attend their institution. You will study at West Point, like your father, and my father before that." Sameen's hands tightened around the envelope. "You are to open the envelope and read its contents, run laps around the house and meet me in the kitchen in an hour."

He proceeded to turn towards the house and walk there in a brisk pace. Sameen waited until he had gone inside before looking down at the envelope, sticking it in her gym shorts, putting her hair up in a tight ponytail, and jogged around the house for a few times before pausing in a place somewhere between her house and the neighbor's, and decided to rest in the shade for a bit and read the invitation that had come for her. As she reached behind her she suddenly heard a strange noise from above.

She barely had time to look up before she heard someone screaming and fell back to the ground, a heavy weight on top of her and brown curly hair framing her face, frowning up at the squinting hazel eyes and adorable, apologetic smile of a girl about her age.

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><p><span>AN: _Remember, a review a day keep's the writer's block away!_


	3. Chapter 3

**No Copyright Infringement Intended**

**Title: **But I'm Too Young to be A Spy!

**Chapter: **2

**Pairing: **Root/Shaw

**Genre: **Romance/Drama

**Rating: **T

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><p>After a few moments had passed and the girl still hadn't moved, Sameen asked, in a low measured tone, "So, are you getting off anytime soon?"<p>

The mystery girl just smiled wider and blushed slightly, turning her back towards Sameen as she lifted herself up and sat on the grass next to her, looking up at the roof and then down at the ground.

As the dark-haired girl lifted herself up on her shoulders, Samantha looked at her from behind her shoulder, her expression coy, "Thank you for cushioning my fall." She said, with a small voice with a shy but playful smile.

Sameen lifted one eyebrow at her and turned around to place her hands on the ground behind her, pushing herself up and standing, then seeing that the girl's gaze was still on her, she stared back questioningly. It was as if she was expecting her to say something, but Shaw stayed silent.

In the shadow of this intimidating strange but beautiful girl, Samantha was forced to break their reverie and look back down at the ground. Something bubbled up inside of her, and she felt her stomach tie up in knots. She'd never felt so nervous before, it was as if she was unable to break the silence or move from her current position, but she knew that she had to say something, anything, at least to explain why she had been poking around on her roof and managed to fall on this random girl.

Finally finding her voice, she looked up, only to have it taken away again just by seeing her untouchable expression. Finally, Shaw rolled her eyes and offered her hand begrudgingly, and Samantha took it, feeling very grateful. Standing up, she was much taller than this girl, and she smiled at her brightly, she was towering over her, and Sameen tilted her chin up defiantly, her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms.

Samantha hadn't been in the town for very long, her family had just moved to the neighborhood, and though they had already spent a summer there, getting everything moved in, she had yet to meet any other kids of make any friends, and this was mostly due to the fact that she spent most of her time on her computer, so she was completely unaware that there was a girl her age living next door, or that she was so pretty. This thought made her blush again.

Suddenly, little Miss Groves realized she still had yet to find her glasses, which must have gotten lost during the fall. She thought about asking her new friend to help her look for them, but she wasn't sure that would be the best idea, seeing how cold and distant she seemed. This didn't faze Samantha at all, in fact, it made her incredibly curious about her.

She smiled again slowly and tilted her head to the side, saying in a soft and warm voice, "Well, it was very nice to meet you, -" She looked at her questioningly and excitedly.

The girl answered shortly, "Shaw."

Samantha's eyes scrunched up at the corners and examined her as if she were a puzzle she was trying to solve, or the code in the software of one of her machines. Finally, she seemed to get a good idea of who was standing in front of her, and, in a slightly mocking but playful tone, she said, "Well, it was very nice to meet you," she looked down at her lips briefly, and the girl tilted her head, "Shaw."

With one last look behind her, she went back to her house, where her mother was screaming that it was time to go to church.

Without another thought in the matter, Shaw ran a couple more laps around the house before coming back in, her envelope forgotten.

Later, after an hour of silence eating with her father and going over her homework, she was allowed to retire to her room. The night had set in, and outside everything was wrapped in darkness. The house was silent. Usually, she would stay in her room in order to keep out of her father's way, spending hours doing drills or reading an book about action or adventure, her headphones in her ears, listening to rock music. Her room was impersonal and impeccable, her socks folded in military style, her shoes neatly arranged next to the door, mostly sneakers.

Tonight, for some reason, she decided to head up to the attic. Pulling a small cord in the ceiling next to her parent's bedroom, after taking out the staircase inside, she looked back to see if anyone was coming, and climbed up into the pitch-black room, which smelled of mold and old furniture. Crawling over to the round window at the corner, she turned on a Victorian lamp and was bathed in a small circle of light. Looking around her, she saw her mother's possessions, which had disappeared the previous summer without a trace, and recognized the familiar smell in the air. This failed to impress a reaction upon her, and she merely looked back out the window, her eyes particularly dark and empty. She hadn't been in this room since she died.

She looked at the house next door, and, for the first time, saw a light coming from what had been an empty room most of her life. The girl she had seen earlier was there, lying on her bed and looking at the ceiling. A laptop was open next to her with a set of what looked like very advanced code, and she tapped a pencil against her lip in deep thought. She didn't seem aware of anyone looking at her, and Shaw made no effort to catch her attention, but decided to stay still in silence as she was doing before. Surrounded by her mother's possessions, she felt a certain calm enveloping her, and suddenly remembered what her father had handed her earlier. Taking it out of her pocket, she opened the letter and started to read through it with an impassive face.

When she was through with it, she threw it down at her side and forgot about it immediately, and decided to look out the window again. As if finally aware that someone was watching her, Samantha turned her head and saw the girl sitting in what she had assumed to be an abandoned attic, and, seeing how incredibly straight-faced she seemed, she put her glasses off to the side, and with a smug little grin, blew her a kiss. Shaw rolled her eyes dramatically and saw the brunette giggle before returning to her code.


End file.
